


Flatly Concerned

by kassywritescrap (kaswrites), SansyFresh



Series: The TwistedPear Chronicles [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fighting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Therapy, Trauma, might end up being twist/p/cash but im not sure, past mental abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-08-09 18:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaswrites/pseuds/kassywritescrap, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Portugal is free, back in his own home with his own rules. He doesn't have to worry about anything anymore.So why does it hurt like a motherfucker every time he thinks about Twist?





	1. Homeward

**Author's Note:**

> so i was re-reading some of my works and i read Rounded and Afraid again and uh
> 
> this happened? 
> 
> I have no idea how long it'll be, or what all's going to happen, but watch the tags and sit back and enjoy some TwistedPear

The door to his apartment rattled as he unlocked it, Portugal rolling his eyes as the key stuck in the lock for a moment, only coming loose when he gave it a good nudge. Once inside he surveyed the dark living room, noting what was all still in place and if anything at all had been taken.

The shitty tv was still in the corner, his lumpy ass couch sitting across from it like an old man. Nothing else seemed to be moved or otherwise messed with, so Portugal kicked the door shut behind him, locking it with his magic as he made his way to the kitchen, plastic bags in hand.

Twist had helped him shop, picking out more healthy alternatives to the usual kinds of food Portugal bought and consumed, and if Twist hadn’t been so stars damn morose about the fact that Portugal wasn’t returning to his house. 

It was too much to think about, going back to the house he’d finally felt safe in, only to remember that it belonged to someone else. He wasn’t wanted there, wasn’t needed, was really only in the way and the others still thought he was there to mooch off Twisted at best, dust him in his sleep at worst. The Berry had moved back in as soon as Portugal had signed the adoption papers, uncaring as he packed up Portugal’s shit and stacked the boxes on the porch.

As far as he knew from Cash, Twist and the Berry had a bit of a nasty fight over it, not that he was there to witness it. He’d placidly packed the boxes into Cash’s car and Cash had driven him home (and wasn’t that a real kick in the pelvis, that after so many years someone finally saw him as more than an asshat that needed correction). 

Setting the bags on the counter, Portugal began removing the items one at a time and placing them in the cabinets and fridge, only opening the freezer when he came to the small packages of meat Twist had insisted he buy for making “real” meals. Portugal had been feeling a bit out of it at the time and had agreed solely based on the effort to get the whole situation over with so he could go home.

Once he was finished, he gave the kitchen a look over, noting the dust and grime that had accumulated in his absence. He’d need to find the good soap, full of bleach and grime killer, and his nice scrub brush, but for the moment he was tired, felt a little sick to the stomach, and needed to sit down more than he needed to clean. His weary feet carried him to the couch, where he sat, then flopped over, curling into himself. Why was he feeling this way? He was doing the best thing for Twist; leaving him alone would only help his happiness. He was much happier with the others than he;d ever been with Portugal. 

Cringing his eyes shut, he saw the scene again, of Twist growling, furious, as one of the others back away, even as they sent glares at a still healing Portugal. They’d come, knowing he’d been pregnant, with accusations of using Twist as a magic substitute, of using Twist in general as protection when he didn’t really care, it was P, of course he didn’t care.

Twist had nearly torn them limb from limb as Portugal breathed through a panic attack on his bed, curled away from whoever it was, he didn’t even remember now. The only things he could remember was the fear, the strong pulses of magic, and the warm arms that surrounded him after whoever it was had left.

No, he wasn’t good for Twist. He only brought him trouble.

He was brought out of his spiraling thoughts by his phone going off, the galaga theme playing loud and proud. Checking the caller ID, he grimaced, but answered.

“”Ey boss.”

Charlie chuckled, seemingly ruffling through papers on the other side of the phone. “Hey, P, I checked in with our mutual friend and it seems you’re through the worst of it?”

Portugal wiped his face, sitting up as he answered, “Yeah, ‘m feelin’ a lot better. I c’n come ta work tomorrow, if I still ‘ave a job?”

Charlie was silent for a moment, Portugal’s soul sinking until he finally answered. “Well of course you do, I wouldn’t fire my best worker just because he needed to take some maternity...paternity? Leave.”

Portugal sat back in his chair, relieved beyond words, before he began asking what work he missed. Charlie reassured him that there was still plenty to be done, and just before he hung up he reminded Portugal that he’d be receiving pay for the two months of work he missed, not letting him get a word in edgewise about how he hadn’t worked for that money.

Glaring at the now silent phone, he tossed it to the table, uncaring of how it bounced off and into the floor. Rubbing his sockets with both hands, He sank back into the couch, trying to stave off the hot tears that stung his eyes. He must still be experiencing the hormone imbalance from being pregnant, the doctor said that could happen. He slowly slumped back into a sideways position, legs curled up to his chest as he tried not to cry. It was just hormones. It had nothing to do with his… rather inappropriate feelings for Twist. He was doing the best thing, for everyone. In fact…

Suddenly, he sat up, sockets wide as he thought. It would be better if he left. He couldn’t do it now, he didn’t have the money saved to move and pay for a new apartment in a new city, not to mention finding one that would take a monster. That alone was its own battle.

No, he could do this. Save up, get some more boxes, and when the time came, he’d be ready.

This was a good thing. It didn’t matter that his soul stung as if stabbed clean through. It was a  _ good thing _ .


	2. Mistakes and Coins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, been a while lol sorry about that XD 
> 
> merry christmas time! have a chapter!!
> 
> enjoy ^^

The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment as Portugal stormed through it, throwing his bag down by the couch before flopping face down and screaming into the cushion. It only lasted a few minutes, his vocal cords still strained from all the screaming he did while giving birth (who knew that was a thing), but it still helped release a little of the pent of aggression he’d been dealing with since said birth. 

His emotions were still all over the place, and they only spiked in intensity when Twist tried to call, like he’d been doing every day since P had moved back into his apartment. Today had just been one of those days that every single thing stabbed at his psyche until it bled. Doing the phone calls at work had been hell, and the last customer he’d talked to he’d actually snapped at. Of course Charlie had been within earshot and, like the good boss he was, sent P home early.

Portugal was pretty angry about it, but then again, there was little he wasn’t angry about these days. 

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity, Portugal scrubbing the walls and floors with a fury like none had ever seen. Several meals worth of chicken fried chicken was made, boxed up and set in the fridge to cool, as well as three pots worth of bacon mac. He’d also made a platter of garlic cheesy biscuits but those had been set out on a plate so he could reach over and grab one as he worked on his computer to find a job in the next city over.

It was difficult applying for jobs that he had little experience in, especially when most of them also took one look at the fact that he was a monster with a more violent past and immediately skipped over him. He’d found a good thing working IT support with Charlie, but finding anything else that would hire him was turning out to be a pain in the damn coccyx. 

More and more of him wanted to just stay here, maybe see if he couldn’t finally get Twist to see that he was no good for him. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like that was going to happen any time soon. 

Chewing angrily on a biscuit, Portugal checked the time on the clock hanging on the wall, the ticks soothing on bad days. It was near enough happy hour, he could find some hole in the wall and get a little sloshed, no one had to know. Having made his decision, he hopped up from his seat at the table and rushed out the door.

It was about a twenty minute walk from his house to the nearest bar according to his phone, one that he took happily since it was both the closest and one that he wasn’t banned from yet. Which was surprising in itself, but it was the rare exception. The bartender knew he was a bit down on his luck these past few months and, when he walked in and sat at the bar, slid him a screwdriver. 

Portugal nodded his thanks and took a long, hard drink before setting it down with a thunk and a satisfied sigh. It felt nice, sitting in the quiet atmosphere, sipping at a drink that burned on the way down, and absolutely no one bothering him. 

Until a meaty hand landed on his shoulder, turning him forcefully around to face a group of burly men who, at first glance, looked like every other single asshole human he’d pissed off in his few years of being up here. 

“Heya P, wanna step outside wit’ us fer a minute?” the guy with his hand on Portugal’s shoulder asked, or well, demanded. P glanced back at the bartender who was thoughtfully eyeing the shotgun on the wall, shaking his head with a slight motion. The bartender rolled his eyes, giving him a look that said “Fine, your funeral”. Portugal winked, then turned back to the guy who was about to blow his top at not being answered. 

“Sure, Ah’ll c’me outside wit’ ya.” he answered, pushing the guy’s hand off his shoulder before all but sauntering to the door.

Now that he’d been through the pain of _actual_ _ fucking childbirth _ , anything these guys could do to him would be child’s play. Maybe he’d even fight back this time, get a little blood on his hands. Wouldn’t that be nice to wash off when he got home. 

When he stepped out into the fading sunlight, P turned around expecting to see a fist flying at his face. It was a common sight, something he’d grown used to.

Instead he saw the disapproving glare of a purple eyed skeleton.

“Cash?” he asked, baffled. 

Said skeleton glared even harder. “Yeah, asshole.”

P glanced around. Then, emphatically, “What the fuck???”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic, and others, wont be updated regularly for a few months because im trying some new stuff out and i want to get back into the groove!
> 
> refer to this post for specifics!
> 
> https://freshouttaparsnips.tumblr.com/post/189373795793/alright-so-you-know-that-schedule-i-posted


	3. It doesn't even matter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys this chapter was supposed to go a different direction but this is what happens when i listen to sad music while writing angst :O
> 
> enjoy ;)

Portugal was hissing, spitting angry as Cash dragged him to his car, throwing him in the back seat by the scruff of the neck before slamming the door. He was growling, ready to jump back out and fight the fucker, odds be damned, but Cash simply got in the driver’s seat and locked the doors. 

“Seatbelt, asshole.” he said, turning the key in the ignition and backing out the parking lot, heading back for Portugal’s apartment. Portugal scowled at the back of his head but did as he asked, watching miserably out the window as Cash drove them past the city limits and out to the rougher districts, where his shitty apartment sat. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was home. More home than his universe had been.

As soon as they were parked Portugal jumped out, emerald magic flaring in his socket as he stormed inside, slamming the door behind him. It didn’t stop Cash from following him in, Portugal turning to snap at him just as Cash raised a hand. He couldn’t help the flinch, Cash’s sockets narrowing as he lowered it. 

“Listen, you gotta start shapin’ up, dickwad. The others saw’a new side to ya, but now yer goin’ back ta gettin’ in bar fights and gettin’ the snot kicked outta ya?” Cash shook his head, disappointed, but all it did was piss Portugal off even more than he already was. 

“Y’know ya c’n shove yer pity up yer ass! I ‘dun need it!” he spat. Just as he turned to leave, possibly to head back to the bar to settle his beef with those assholes, Cash took his arm and pushed him back into the corner, boxing him in. Portugal couldn’t help the warmth that rushed to his face as he stared up at a now furious Cash, purple eyelights flashing with anger. 

“You listen here, ya shit. I can’t be the one tellin’ Twisted ya got yerself killed over somethin’ this stupid-”

“HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW IF ITS STUPID ‘ER NOT!” Portugal snapped, breaking free of his grip to glare up at him. “How tha fuck would you know, the lot a ya, ya don’ even know me!”

Turning, he stomped to the kitchen, getting a bottle of booze out from under the sink. Taking a long swig, he didn’t notice the hue of his magic slowly easing from emerald to crimson. 

“Ya don’ even try, do ya? They tell each other that I’m jus’ an asshole, that I deserve what comes my way, and, and-” He paused to take another drink, tears beginning to stream down his face. “And ya don’ even ask me what my universe was like! What it was like, livin’ every day with havin’ ta change who ya are, jus’ so your own brother won’ berate ya, so ya won’ die just from gettin’ the groceries…”

He sobbed, red tears flowing down and landing on his shirt. “And then, ya come to a new place, a safe place, and ya don’ trust it, not one bit, so ya lash out, and that’s all they see.”

Cash was watching, silent and still, and for no reason at all it just pissed him off more. Pointing to him with his bottle, Portugal snapped, “You go back, you tell ‘em. I don’ wan’ none ‘er ya pity, I don’ wan’ none ‘er ya “love”. I don’t need any of ya, and I hell as fuck don’ need Twist!”

He choked on the last part, covering by taking yet another swig of the burning liquid, sitting hard on his one kitchen chair. Neither of them said anything for a long time, Cash eventually leaving, quietly. Portugal didn’t watch to see if he locked the door, just sat there until the bottle was empty, and closed his eyes. 

The next day he called out sick, leaving it on Charlie’s answering machine. He couldn’t bring himself to actually talk to the man. He sat there, in his chair, and thought about leaving. Thought about packing up, taking off, just him and the open road, never coming back to this backwards town and their perverse mercies. 

The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. He could do it, he had enough money saved up to last him a couple months, until he found his new place. His new home. 

He could do this. 

Resolved, Portugal stood on shaking legs, walking to the bedroom where he’d already had a bag packed for nearly a month. He could leave everything else here for the landlord’s to clean up, stars knew they needed the practice. Grabbing his bag, he stared at his shelves of cooking books and manga, blinking back tears as he left. 

His windbreaker slid on like a glove, boots the same way. Then he was out the door and walking to his car, locking it behind him with magic, keys tossed to the mat. He climbed in, staring hard at the one home he’d known since thrown into this stupid universe, and turned the key.

His phone had some kind of GPS on it, ran by google or some shit. He told it to take him to the nearest camping site, preferably near a lake, and it gave a few suggestions. Picking the one farthest away, he started down the road, ignoring the tears in his eyes as the city lights grew more and more distant. 

He was alone. For the first time, in a long time, truly alone. Out on his own, Sans would have been proud. He’d always said that Portugal wouldn’t amount to much, not with the natural hue of his magic. No, Portugal was never going to end up doing anything productive with his life, he just ran away from his problems.

A harsh voice in the back of his head wondered what exactly he thought he was doing now.

It didn’t matter. He was going out, striking out on his own, finding himself or what the fuck ever. 

It didn’t matter.


	4. Roadtropes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay next chapter :D
> 
> enjoy ;)

The drive to the lake was one of the most peace-filled moments of Portugal’s long ass life. He’d never known peace like this back home, and even when he lived in the shitty little apartment, things had always been on the edge of dangerous. He’d lived in a rough neighborhood, nothing was going to change that it was more likely for someone to break in than it was for him to sleep through the night. 

The lake was beautiful in the evening light, lights sparkling off the water as he pulled up, paying for a camping spot for a few nights before driving along the lakeside until he found the far off parkway. Pulling in, he parked, turning off the car and letting his head thud on the front of his headrest. 

He hadn’t bothered charging his phone, knowing that no matter what they’d be trying to contact him, Cash and Twist especially. He didn’t want to read the disappointed texts, or worse, the ones saying they hoped he never came back. 

He climbed out of the car, stretching out until all of his joints popped in glorious stereo, and went to open the side door when it popped open on its own, a flash of purple dashing out from under the boxes and headed for a nearby tree. Portugal could only watch, wide eyed, as Cash started hurling at the base of the oak and Twist climbed out from behind him, the both of them groaning and whining.

“Damn, P, yer can’ jus’ drive like that.” Twist said, hands on his knees as he bent over, groaning. Portugal was silent as Cash came back over, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I’m not good fer car rides anyways, but you drive like a madwoman.” He said with great enthusiasm. 

Portugal’s mouth opened. Closed. Then all hell broke loose.

“What the ACTUAL FUCK do ya both think yer doin’ here! I left ta get on by my own, where do ya both get off on jus’, jus’ TAGGIN’ ALONG??”

He ranted for another good few minutes, wringing the air like it was their throats, stomping around until Twist finally piped up again.

“Yer might wanna give it a rest, P. Not like yer innocent in this whole scheme.”

Portugal stopped mid tirade, green magic turning into a scorching red. “I would mind ya to watch yer own business. It’s completely my own decision if I leave ‘er not.”

Twist and Cash both nodded. “Yeah, but its ours ta follow ya, jus’ to make sure ya don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

Portugal stared hard at them both, then turned, screaming into his hands for a long moment. 

Finally, he turned to them both. “Go back home. I’m not comin’ back.”

“No can do sweetheart.”

“No siree, darlin’.”

Portugal huffed, but quirked a mean grin. “Fine. Then yer both c’n help me pay fer supper.”

~.~

It was quiet that night, in the car where Portugal laid back in his seat. Twist and Cash were both keeping watch outside, sitting on stumps with a fire between them. The crackling was peaceful, the sounds of nature around them soothing even as he felt tears bead in his sockets. 

This was supposed to be his clean getaway…

Trust the universe to have his back.


	5. Cooking Pork Chops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo next chapter :D
> 
> enjoy !!

Portugal watched as Twist disappeared into the woods, wearing nothing but a sheer tank top that cut off around the bottom of his ribs and a pair of swim shorts. It was only a few seconds before the big idiot was gone completely, utterly gone from sight. Well, out of sight, out of mind, he thought to himself as he ventured out himself on a walk to the nearby camping store. When he’d looked up reviews of this little state park on the way here, it’d said everything he might need would be in the store itself. So, he was giving it a try, and if they didn’t have a necessity, he’d make a trip into the town around twenty minutes away. 

Cash had disappeared some time earlier that morning, but P quickly figured out to where when he came up to the beach that was on the way to the store, the white of bleaching bones almost blinding under the bright sunlight. Cash was laying in a reclined beach chair, wearing nothing but a short pair of swimming shorts. Most of his bones were out on display and from his angle, P could see the hints of ilium and sacrum that the shorts did little to hide.

He ignored the blush that cropped up on his own face, stomping past even as Cash winked at him. 

The store was quaint, following the log cabin kind of vibe that the rest of the buildings around had. It indeed had quite a selection of goods, including all the popcorn he could ever want. Since he hadn’t planned for Cash and Twist bumming a ride, he grabbed a little extra food, mostly carrots and a shiny green apple for Twist and a little bag of chocolate coins for Cash. He didn’t do it out of any kind of care, no, if they’d found out what was in the shop on their own and he didn’t get them any, they’d have thrown a fit.

Buncha assholes, they were.

And no, he wasn’t smiling.

Once he’d finished making his purchases, including a few nights worth of jiffy pop, he made his way back to the camping spot, making use of the small fire pit, the blaze growing as he slowly added wood bits to it. He hadn’t heard Cash coming up behind him, startling a little as he gently sat beside him. 

“Didn’t know you knew how to build a fire, P.” He remarked, sounding curious. Portugal just flipped him off and continued feeding the fire until it was large enough to cook on.

Getting out one of his skillets, he set up the fire to last a while and started up a pair of frozen pork chops. He threw the little plastic netting bag of chocolate coins at Cash’s face, ignoring the way he made a little happy noise, shearing the bag open with his pocket knife and popping one in his mouth.

Cash waited next to him as they cooked, the both of them appreciating the smell as Twist came crashing back out of the woods, seemingly following his nose. 

“Smells good, P!” He exclaimed, taking a seat next to Cash as he wheezed, out of breath. Portugal rolled his eyes, but handed him a bottle of water as well as the green apple. Again, he ignored the thanks Twist sent him, focusing instead on the cooking meat.

He was focusing so hard, in fact, that he missed the look that passed between the two other skeletons.


End file.
